


In Your Own Words

by hydraxx



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:50:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7745626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydraxx/pseuds/hydraxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliza Schuyler is a ghostwriter, so she rarely gets credit for her own words, but she doesn't particularly mind. She's just here to tell stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Eliza Schuyler fiddled impatiently with the hem of her skirt, letting the smooth slide of the fabric calm her nerves. She closed her eyes for a moment to take in the sounds of Senator Washington’s waiting room. The office manager—John Laurens, as he’d introduced himself—hummed quietly while his keyboard clacked; voices and footsteps swelled and faded in the hall; a distant door slammed. Eliza picked absently at a knot of thread.

This wasn’t the first memoir project she’d been a ghostwriter for, but it was certainly the highest profile. There were always minor celebrities looking to extend their fifteen minutes of fame with a book. As a result she’d spent the last several years jumping between Los Angeles and New York, researching their stories and doing her job well, but the grind of D-list hobnobbing was taking its toll. She leapt at the chance to step into a new circle: politics.

George Washington, former general and current Virginia senator, who was well known for his humility, was a welcome change of subject. In all honesty it was astonishing that he hadn’t already published a book. Angelica speculated that he must be a nightmare of a journalistic collaborator if the rumors about his reticence were true; Eliza, however, prided herself on drawing stories out of even the most reluctant narrators and looked forward to the challenge of digging into Washington’s famously reserved life.

On the other hand, certain of his staffers seemed like they might be closer in personality to the reality stars she was used to working with. His favored legislative assistant on economics, Alex Hamilton, was dangerously active on Twitter, and some French volunteer with an insanely long name (Angelica could pronounce it flawlessly) was purported to have a complex close relationship with the Senator and his wife. Still, Eliza intended to hit precisely the dignified tone proscribed by Washington’s PR team. She was a professional, after all.

“Ms. Schuyler?” The office manager was giving her a warm smile, nicely accented by his dense freckles. Another woman stood in the doorway. “If you’ll follow Mina, Senator Washington is ready for you.”

Eliza collected her shoulder bag and smoothed her skirt as she stood.

“Mina, was it?” she asked, approaching the other woman with one hand extended. “I’m Elizabeth Schuyler. I’m working on the Senator’s book. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Mina gave a firm handshake. “Benjamina Walker,” she said. “I’m Senator Washington’s personal assistant. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other, I’m sure.” She led the way down the hall. “Now, the Senator only has half an hour for this initial meeting, as this is a very tightly scheduled time of year, but I’ll be working with you to arrange whatever access you need to the Senator, his staff, and his family.”

“I appreciate it,” Eliza said. “I can tell you I’ve worked with too many people before who make this process all too difficult.”

Mina laughed. “The Senator may be a busy man, but he likes to be available to those who need him. And, of course, those he’s paying to represent him to the world.” She shot Eliza a friendly smile over one shoulder, then rapped on a door that stood slightly ajar.

“Come in.”

Holding herself a little taller, Eliza stepped into the room to meet George Washington.

He rose from his chair when she entered and walked around the desk to warmly clasp her hand. Her first thought was that he was _incredibly_ tall and made more than a little intimidating by his grave air, but his kind if small smile immediately settled her nerves.

“Ms. Schuyler. It is a pleasure.”

“Eliza, please, Senator,” she said. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

“If you are Eliza, then I am George. We’ll certainly have enough time together to warrant a first-name basis.” He gestured to the leather chair in front of the desk and she sat. “My PR director should be joining us in a moment. Can I offer you any refreshment? Water, tea, coffee?”

“No, thank you,” Eliza replied. She rested one hand on the bag in her lap. “Would you mind if I recorded this meeting? I know it’ll be mostly business, but I always prefer to have a record for my own reference.”

“Of course, I understand.” The door brushed open again just as Washington returned to his own chair. “Ah, James, thank you for being here.”

Another large but slightly frazzled man slid into the seat beside Eliza and quickly offered a handshake and a shy smile. “James Madison, PR. It’s wonderful to meet you in person, Ms. Schuyler.”

“Eliza,” she told him, confidently returning his firm grip. “It’s good to put a face to the name. You’re surprisingly elusive online for a PR director, if I may say so.”

His gentle laugh caught Eliza by surprise. “I much prefer keeping the spotlight on my clients. Speaking of which, shall we get started?”

“Please.” Eliza swiftly set up her recorder and nodded at Madison when she was ready.

“As we’ve discussed, this project stems from the Senator’s growing interest in preserving his legacy for future generations.” Washington bowed his head in agreement. “He wants to tell his story in such a way that aspiring leaders can access it and draw inspiration. This isn’t just for the political historians, it’s for young people who want to change the world.”

Nodding acknowledgment, Eliza jotted down a few words and asked, “At this juncture, should I be aware of any of the Senator’s planned career moves that might affect the telling of his story?” She knew perfectly well that there was wide speculation he would be a candidate in the next presidential election, but it was always better to have that information come from the subject than third-party commentators.

Madison knew exactly what she meant. “We're not at liberty to disclose specifics, but there is some consideration that this would contribute to the Senator’s image in future races, yes. To that end we want to keep the focus on his connections with American values—family, honesty, loyalty, service, et cetera.” He pinned her with a keen look but Eliza remained coolly professional.

The rest of the meeting proceeded smoothly, with Washington responding readily to Eliza’s prompts and Madison monitoring every exchange to safeguard the Senator’s image. Both men seemed pleased on parting.

“We are looking forward to your involvement in the project,” Madison said as he shook Eliza’s hand in the doorway. “You have my contact information. Please get in touch should you have further questions.” She gave him a polite smile.

“George, I’ll be in touch with your assistant this week to arrange some interviews, maybe tag along with your itinerary if that’s alright. My schedule is flexible and I can easily extend my time in D.C. if need be.” Eliza gathered her notes and bag but kept eye contact with the Senator while she spoke.

Washington nodded. “Of course, we’ll do what we can to accommodate your work. It has been a pleasure, Eliza.”

With one last farewell, Eliza was free. On her way out of the office she waved at the people she’d met—Mina, John—just to keep up a positive rapport.

A gloriously blue sky greeted her on the exterior steps. It was a perfect late spring day, with vibrant greenery lining the streets and a playful breeze that ruffled her skirt. Eliza smiled and bounced down the stairs.

“Eliza!” A familiar voice caught her attention. Peggy was waving from the other end of the building, so Eliza quickly changed route to catch her sister.

“Pegs! What are you doing here?” She folded her younger sibling into an enthusiastic hug.

Peggy laughed. “I knew you’d be done around this time so I took an early lunch.”

“You didn’t have to do that, sweetie! I would have seen you tonight anyway.”

“Oh, don’t pull that,” Peggy said with a grin. “I know you’re happy to see me. Besides, I’d rather show my sister around on my lunch break than listen to Jessica drone about campaign finance reform again.”

“I’ve been to D.C. before,” Eliza protested. “You don’t have to ‘show me around.’ And you love talking about campaign finance reform!”

Ignoring those comments, Peggy linked their arms and tugged her toward the sidewalk. “Come on! There’s a food truck down the street.”

Eliza gave in with an exaggerated sigh, saying, “You’re buying me lunch,” but she couldn’t help the happy smile that spread across her face. She loved exploring cities with her sisters. The previous summer was especially fun, when Eliza had been researching a story in Chicago at the same time that Angelica was accompanying her wife Joanne on a business trip; they’d spent a full week running around the city seeing as many museums as possible before Eliza returned to New York and Angelica to London. She harbored a quiet dream of one day traveling the world with both her sisters, even if her practical side recognized how difficult that would be to coordinate.

For the moment, though, Eliza was thrilled to munch on falafel and wander the capital with Peggy, who rattled off a brief history of every statue and monument they passed (including a rather well-disguised strip club, which earned Peggy a mortified gasp and an exclamation of “ _Margarita Schuyler!_ ”). They wound up outside the Emily’s List offices just after noon.

“This is me,” Peggy chirped, finally unlinking their elbows and pecking Eliza on the cheek. “Are you going back to the apartment?”

“No, I thought I’d settle at that coffee shop around the corner for a while to work on a piece that’s due next week. I’ll text you if I leave before the end of the day.”

“Perfect! I’ll probably send you dinner ideas if I get bored. They might get weird depending on my exact level of boredom.”

Eliza laughed. “Sounds like a plan, Stan.” They slipped in one last hug before Peggy returned to work, wiggling her fingers in a silly wave.

Left to her own devices, Eliza hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder and took off toward the coffee shop at a determined pace. Her phone buzzed when she was a block away.

“Angie!” she cried as soon as the call connected. “My favorite oldest sister.”

Angelica’s laugh was warm, even an ocean away. “My favorite middle sister. How’s things, E?”

“Oh, great,” Eliza breathed, smiling though her sister couldn’t see it. “I had my first face-to-face meeting with Washington this morning for the memoir project, and then Peg and I got lunch and walked around the city.”

“I _thought_ that was today! How’d it go? Is he as scary as Dad made him out to be?”

“Hardly! He’s very reserved, and I could see how he’d be intimidating, but he’s very professional and it seems like everyone involved will be pretty easy to work with.”

“Have you met the staff yet?”

“A couple of people. His office manager, personal assistant, of course the PR director.”

“What about that Hamilton guy? The one with the Twitter? If anybody gives you trouble I’d bet money it’ll be him.”

Eliza snorted. “Clearly you don’t keep up with his Twitter, Angie, or you’d know that he’s on a trip to Puerto Rico with other Congressional staffers and is very angry about it.”

“Who could be angry in Puerto Rico?”

“Alex Hamilton, apparently. But I think it’s less to do with Puerto Rico itself and more to do with the Congressional handling of its economic affairs. Shouldn’t you know these things? You’re the one with a steady job for an international news organization.” She reached the coffee shop as she spoke but decided to finish the conversation outside instead of disrupting the peaceful interior, so she leaned against the warm brick wall.

“Babe, I can only keep up with so much. Puerto Rico’s not exactly the Middle East, which you may recall is my actual journalistic domain.”

“Mmhm. I suppose it doesn’t matter that this is a rather important domestic affair, because you moved to England and stopped caring about us Americans.” Eliza knew Angelica would hear and deliberately ignore her teasing tone.

“Elizabeth! I never said I didn’t care about American affairs. But you have to admit I’m a little busy.”

“Oh, Angie, I’m just teasing,” Eliza soothed. “Trust me, I know between work and Joanne and the kids you’re spread thin. How are they all doing, by the way? It’s been well over a week since I spoke to any of them.”

“They’re all fine,” Angelica said. Eliza heard the fondness that always crept into her voice when talking about her family. “Philip has been making some new friends, and Kate is starting to read on her own. She’s been correcting me when I change words in her bedtime stories, actually.”

“That’s hardly surprising,” Eliza said with a laugh. “I want to know what Mom says when you tell her her adopted granddaughter is already carrying on family traditions.”

“She can experience it herself next month. I’m more than happy to relinquish that duty for a couple of weeks.”

“Aw, it’s sweet, though,” Eliza cooed. “I can’t wait to visit you again. I miss those rascals.”

“They miss you, too, ‘Auntie Liza.’ Speaking of which, it’s about time for me to head back to the zoo and help Joanne feed the animals. Talk again soon? Maybe Skype me while Peg’s around?”

“Of course. Give Joanne my love! Bye sis!”

The tinkling bell above the door into the coffee shop was a perfect accompaniment to the joy in Eliza’s heart. She cheerfully ordered her iced chai and claimed a small table by the window, then set up everything she needed to work: laptop, charger, notepad, phone on silent. Her planner was neatly laid out with deadlines and writing schedules so that she was always on top of things, even when she got dragged around D.C. for an unexpected hour. When her drink was ready she bounced up to the counter and thanked the barista with a grateful smile before settling in at her computer.

Minutes and then hours flew by while she researched and wrote. The current article was coming together easily; she should be able to finish it by the end of the week, then use the last few days to edit before the deadline. She hummed contentedly and decided to take a quick break to stretch, buy a muffin, and check her messages.

She unlocked her phone while standing in line and giggled at Peggy’s dinner ideas, which started with tacos and spiraled into ever-increasing complexity and obscurity. Her response— _Get off Pinterest_ —received an immediate frowny face and _You’re not my mom._

Back at the table she scrolled through the rest of her notifications, read a couple of urgent emails, and opened up Twitter. She really only kept it for professional appearances; most of her tweets were from news sources or other commentators, but she had a good-sized audience. A growing audience, apparently, because one Alex Hamilton had just followed her.

Eliza smirked a little. It looked like she wasn’t the only one doing the research. She opened his profile even though she’d skimmed it that morning and found him in the middle of a rant, with the most recent tweet labeled _7/13_. She rolled her eyes and closed the app again; she didn’t have time to watch this guy’s Twitter feuds unfold. Besides, how could he even know how many tweets that would take? Did he write them all out ahead of time?

Regardless of Alex Hamilton’s curious tweeting habits, Eliza had work to do. Peggy would be done in just under two hours and Eliza wanted to devote as much of the evening as possible to sisterly bonding, which meant hitting the day’s wordcount early so they could marathon _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ without interruptions. She sent a quick text confirming that tacos sounded just lovely for dinner, then set her phone screen-down and dove into writing.

At 4:45 Eliza put the finishing touches on a particularly difficult paragraph and started packing up to meet Peggy. She grabbed her phone while slipping pens into her bag and scrolled quickly through the amassed notifications: a couple of texts, a voicemail from the pharmacy, a few junk emails and one from Washington’s assistant. Eliza paused, standing behind her chair, to read Mina’s message.

_Eliza,_

_John Laurens and I have some time in the morning that we’d like to use to sit down with you and coordinate schedules for interviews and observation. Let me know when you can come into the office. There’s also a cocktail party tomorrow evening which most of the staff will be attending—you have an invitation with us if you’d like to meet more of the team._

_–Mina Walker_

Eliza quickly sent off a reply with her availability and a polite acceptance of the invitation. A party would be a great opportunity to get more casual perspectives on Washington, something to humanize him in the eyes of readers. It was lucky that she always packed with these occasions in mind; Peggy’s clothes weren’t quite her style. Once that was done, she scooped up her things and made her way back out through the cheerfully jingling door.


	2. Chapter 2

At exactly 9:30 the next morning, Eliza walked back into the Washington offices. Laurens was leaning casually against his desk, chatting in French with a gangly man who had a wildly curly ponytail. It occurred to Eliza briefly that there were a ridiculous number of tall people on this staff.

Laurens turned away from the conversation and smiled when she came in, so she didn’t worry about interrupting when she said, “Good morning!”

“Good morning,” he replied. “Thanks for coming in. Mina’s tied up on a call right now but she should be free in a few minutes.” He gestured to the stranger. “You may not have met him yet—this is Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette. He’ll be a good person to have around while you’re researching.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Eliza said, offering her hand. Gilbert shook it warmly.

“It is mutual,” he said through a thick accent. “But please call me Lafayette. John likes to introduce me with too many names for Americans to understand.”

Eliza laughed lightly. “I’ve seen your name around. I won’t lie, my sister is much better at pronouncing it than I am.”

“Your sister, she speaks French?”

“Oh yes, very well. She studied it for years and uses it often for work.”

“What work is that?”

Eliza paused a moment before answering. She didn’t usually chat so easily or share so much with her subjects and those associated with them, but Lafayette’s earnestness was charming. Surely this once it couldn’t hurt. “She’s an international correspondent for Al Jazeera.”

“Oh, fascinating,” Lafayette breathed, turning to John. “Did you know this?”

“No, we hadn’t had much opportunity to chat,” John said. “Maybe tonight at the party? Mina said you were coming.”

“Yes, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Oh, speak of the devil!” John exclaimed as Mina hurried into the room. “Did you finally shake ‘em?”

“Never, ever let me answer the phone again when it’s coming from Byrne,” she muttered. “Those interns are insatiable.”

“Come on, Mina, you’ve worked with me long enough you should know that Southern kids are stubborn as hell.” He noticed Eliza’s amused expression and winked. “Since we’ve got Ms. Schuyler here, though, why don’t we get down to scheduling?”

“Oh, Eliza! I’m sorry. Yes, let’s get this done so we’re all on the same page.”

Lafayette excused himself.

“Bye, Laf,” Mina said absently, already poking her head into the conference room. “Let’s just sit in here. Nobody’s scheduled for it today, right?”

“Yep,” John confirmed, gathering a laptop and planner from his desk. He swept an arm in front of him and said to Eliza, “Ladies first.”

She quickly settled in a chair with her planner and pens arranged on the table.

Once she’d dropped her own things, Mina asked, “Can I get anybody a drink? John, coffee?”

“Yes, please,” he said, glancing up from his computer.

“Eliza?”

“I’ll take an herbal tea if you have it,” she said. “Otherwise water is fine.”

“I’ll see what I can dig up,” Mina said, then disappeared down the hall.

“So, Eliza,” John started while she flipped through her planner. “How long have you been in D.C.?”

“Oh, I just came in Monday night. I’m based out of New York.”

“No way! I used to live up there, during and after college.”

“Really? Where’d you go? I was at Columbia for journalism.”

“Fordham, but my boyfriend actually went to Columbia Law.”

“That’s great. I wonder if we ever crossed paths.”

John laughed. “You’d probably remember running into him. He tends to make himself known.”

She smiled. “How long have you been down here, then?”

“Um, I think it’s three years this summer. We moved when Alex got his job with the Senator.”

Eliza paused. “Alex? That’s not—”

He laughed again. “Yeah, he’s Alex Hamilton. You’ll probably meet him tonight, actually. He’s usually yelling somewhere in the office but they stole him down to Puerto Rico to yell there for a couple of days.”

“Wow, between that and his infamous Twitter he sounds like a real charmer.”

“Oh, he’ll surprise you.”

Mina reappeared at that moment. “Are we talking about Ham? Watch out, Eliza, the guy’s a piece of work. A lovable piece of work, but a piece of work nonetheless. Under no circumstances should you discuss your personal political beliefs with him. He’s convinced he can argue anyone around to his view.”

“Noted,” Eliza said, gratefully accepting a steaming paper cup of tea. “Now, you mentioned yesterday that this is a busy time of year for the Senator, but I was hoping to find a couple of times when he and I could sit down one-on-one for interviews. Do you have any free slots like that in the next week or so?”

Scrolling through the calendar on an iPad, Mina asked, “How open are you to breakfast meetings?”

“To be honest, I prefer them,” Eliza admitted. “I like getting people before the day is on their mind.”

“Perfect. George likes them too. We can probably get Martha in on one of those, too, before she goes back to Virginia this weekend. How about Friday at seven-thirty?”

“Sure. Where?”

It took them nearly an hour to wrangle everyone’s schedules so that Eliza would have time to speak to Washington, his wife, and key staff members. They also planned for her to shadow him the next Monday to get a sense of his everyday character. Eliza was about to leave when Mina stopped her.

“Have you been to Mount Vernon yet?”

“No, I haven’t. This is my first research trip for the project. I haven’t been able to plan that one yet.”

“If you can, you should try to go while Martha’s home. She’d be able to give you a much better picture of the place and the history than anyone but George. Actually, I think Lafayette is heading out at the end of next week—maybe you could travel together if your schedule allows.”

“Oh, that would be great. He knows the Washingtons pretty well, doesn’t he?”

“He’s basically their unofficially adopted son,” Mina laughed. “Here, let me text him. Can I give him your number?”

“Sure.”

Lafayette’s message came through on her way to the coffee shop from the day before. She stepped to the edge of the sidewalk and paused to read it.

_Mina says you need a travel companion to Mount Vernon. I will leave next Friday if you like to come._

She shot back, _That would be wonderful. Can you send me your itinerary so I can book tickets?_ then quickly tapped out her email address and continued on her way.

The coffee shop was bustling with midmorning activity, so Eliza patiently joined the line to get her drink and then claimed the tiniest table in the place. While her computer booted up she sent a text to Peggy: _I’ve got updates from the Hill, meet for lunch?_

Ten minutes later she got a reply. _Korean place south of my office 12:15_. That was just enough time to edit a few pages of the article she’d been working on, so Eliza got right to work. Proofreading might not be glamorous, but it was certainly easy to jump into when she only had an hour.

She met Peggy at the restaurant right on time with another big hug, even though they’d seen each other that morning before leaving Peggy’s apartment.

“Okay okay, what’s the news?” Peggy asked as soon as they had seats.

“It’s not big enough to warrant excitement,” Eliza laughed. “There’s still the cocktail party tonight—I told you about that, right?—and then we scheduled a breakfast meeting Friday, shadowing Monday, and I’m going out to Mount Vernon next week.”

“Mount Vernon. That’s where he’s from? In Virginia?”

“Yep. I’m going to travel with Lafayette. Apparently he’s basically the Washingtons’ adopted son, so that should be interesting.”

Peggy wrinkled her nose. “Lafayette? The hell kind of name is that?”

“He’s French, Pegs, hush,” Eliza admonished. “He seems very nice.”

“Oh, sure.” A wicked smile flashed onto Peggy’s face. “Are you gonna tell Angie that you’re traveling alone with a mysterious Frenchman?”

Rolling her eyes, Eliza said, “Yes, because he’s not mysterious, she knows exactly who he is. She told me how to pronounce his full name when I was doing initial research.”

“And can you pronounce it?”

“...No. But you know French isn’t my specialty.”

“Mmhm.” Peggy looked all too smug. “Clearly that German minor is doing you a lot of good.”

“Considering that the article on Catholic pilgrimage to Kevelaer paid my rent last month, yes, I suppose it is,” Eliza said, one eyebrow raised. Peggy just scoffed and went back to her menu.

After lunch Eliza returned to Peggy’s apartment to work. She planned to get more writing done on her current article now that she had a larger block of time, since it also required some fact-checking research to back up the larger points she’d gotten sources on earlier. She flopped comfortably onto the couch with the computer on her lap and notes spread across the coffee table. With quiet classical music playing, Eliza devoted the entire afternoon to studious focus, finally completing a first draft of her article and beginning the first read-through for content correction.

Peggy arrived home as late afternoon light streamed warmly through the curtains.

“Liza!” she yelled, dropping her bag just inside the front door. “I have red beans and rice, let’s eat before you have to get fancy!”

Eliza was startled out of her concentrated reverie, but regained enough composure to finish rewording a paragraph as she called back, “Put the water on to boil, I’ll come chop vegetables as soon as I finish this up.” She quickly scanned the new sentences, nodded to herself, and saved the document again before setting the laptop aside and bustling into the tiny kitchen.

They chatted animatedly while cooking, giggling over celebrity crushes and arguing about TV shows. Eliza dodged neatly around her sister to grab ingredients and check on pots. She narrowly avoided being stabbed when Peggy got especially passionate about her favorite actress while holding a knife, but they managed to finish the meal unharmed before Eliza had to get ready for the cocktail party.

She was putting makeup on when Peggy sauntered into the bathroom and leaned against the counter next to her.

“Who’s a ham?”

“Hmm?”

“Somebody’s blowing up your Twitter,” Peggy explained, waving Eliza’s phone.

Eliza frowned and set her eyeliner down to see what was going on. Her lockscreen showed five notifications: _@a_ham liked your Tweet_. She went back to her routine.

“Alex Hamilton. He’s one of the Washington staffers,” she said. “Did I tell you about the guy with all the internet feuds?”

“That’s him?” Peggy laughed. “Nice. I think he likes you.”

Eliza snorted. “He’s got a boyfriend, Pegs, and I haven’t even met him.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t liiiike you,” Peggy sang teasingly. “Ooh, look, he liked a photo!”

“A photo?” When had she posted a photo on Twitter? She snatched her phone from Peggy to check the notifications. All his other liked tweets were from the last few weeks, which was hardly a feat considering she didn’t use it that much, but the picture was nearly a year old: a selfie of all three Schuyler sisters after a lunch date in New York.

“He’s creeping on you,” Peggy said. Her face was mock-serious. “I bet he accidentally hit like while staring at your face.”

“Don’t be weird, Pegs,” Eliza admonished. “I’m sure it’s nothing like that. Here, pick out some earrings for me. Leave the phone alone.” She resolved not to mention the topic to Alex at the party unless he brought it up first. Embarrassing people wasn’t her style, unlike certain colleagues she knew. Best to leave it alone.

Mina texted while Eliza was on her way to say that John would be waiting outside the venue. He waved when he spotted her striding up the sidewalk, high heels making a satisfying sound every time they hit the concrete.

“Eliza, good to see you again,” he said, smiling easily. He rested one hand on her arm to guide her to the door. “Shall we?”

“Please,” she replied. “Thanks for meeting me. I always appreciate a friendly escort.”

He laughed. “Well, some of the team get a little wary when strangers just pop up at events, so we figured it might be best to stick a familiar face with you.”

“Will you be able to make introductions?”

The dull roar of chatter washed over them when John opened the door. “That was the plan. Aaaand here we go, Charles Lee”—he tugged on the sleeve of the first man in their path—“Chuck, this is Eliza Schuyler, our ghostwriter. Eliza, Chuck is the chief of staff.”

“Don’t call me Chuck,” the man said icily, but he offered Eliza a thin smile. “Pleasure.” He quickly returned to his conversation.

“Chuck is truly a delight.” John’s tone was so dry that Eliza couldn’t help but grin. “Ok, you’ve already met Madison over there so we can ignore him. Moving right along, we’ve got Tilghman!”

They cut a methodical path through the party, chatting with almost every member of Washington’s staff that was based in D.C. and several non-staff who were friends with John. He seemed to have an easy sociability among these people. Eliza made a mental note to stay in touch with him in case she needed related contacts in the future.

Just as Dolley Payne took her leave of them, a loud and earnest voice rose over the din from the next room. John’s face lit up in amusement.

“And that, Eliza, is the infamous Alexander Hamilton. Come on, it might be something good.”

She trailed him through the crowd, hearing the agitation grow in Hamilton’s voice while his conversational partner’s words became ever more hesitant. John let out a triumphant laugh when he broke into the space adjacent to the two speakers, clearly thrilled by whatever was developing. Eliza stood close behind him to catch a glimpse.

Even at this odd angle she recognized Alex from press photos. He stood uncomfortably close to a taller man, speaking at a fiery pace, clearly unwilling to back down. From the way his opponent shrank back, it seemed that Hamilton had the upper hand. He spat a final phrase at close range and then turned to see John. His entire face brightened.

In spite of herself Eliza thought, Oh, _fuck_ is he cute in person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hometown shoutout. Whaddup, Rep. Byrne (R-AL), your politics are shit.


	3. Chapter 3

A huge grin overtook Hamilton’s face as he walked toward John and Eliza. She scolded herself mentally for the slight blush that crept into her cheeks, but really, his press appearances did _not_ do him justice. God help her, she could never mention this to Peggy.

“John,” he said happily, his voice cracking slightly after the high-volume tirade. He pressed a quick kiss to John’s lips. Laurens snaked one arm around his waist and turned them both to face Eliza.

“Alex, this is—”

“Eliza Schuyler,” she supplied, stepping forward to offer a handshake. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Hamilton.”

He looked almost surprised but took her hand. His palm was warm. “You know who I am?”

“I’m a professional writer, Mr. Hamilton, I’ve done my research. I’d be remiss if I _didn’t_ know you at this stage.” Eliza knew her tone was cold, but really, who did they think they’d hired? Cuteness did not excuse rudeness.

“Just Alex, please. Or Alexander. I didn’t mean to offend your professionalism, Ms. Schuyler.”

“It’s Eliza.”

His lopsided, toothy smile melted her indignation, though she would never admit it. “Can we start over? It’s entirely my pleasure, Eliza Schuyler, and it’s honestly a travesty that John hasn’t told me more about you. You’ve got all the advantage here.” He actually _winked_ at her.

She curled her toes in her shoes and gave him a small reciprocal smile. “I don’t know about that, but it is good to finally meet you in person instead of just reading your Twitter.”

His smile froze for a second and then he was laughing, loud and exuberant. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to get to know me that way. Let’s fix that, shall we?”

“I’ll find us drinks,” John said. “Eliza, any preference?”

“Chardonnay, please,” she answered.

John pecked Alex on the cheek before melting into the crowd.

“So, Eliza.” Alexander’s dark, direct eyes caught her breathless. “You’re a ghostwriter.”

Trying to will her pulse to a normal rate and her skin to its usual color, she said, “That’s right.”

“John says you went to Columbia.”

“Yeah, I did my Masters in Journalism there.”

“Why ghostwriting?”

The question put her guard up again. Most people didn’t actually care about her reasons, they just wanted to mock her career without feeling bad about themselves. She gave her standard response: “I like the challenge.”

Instead of the usual stifled sneer, he looked genuinely intrigued. “How so? I’m not a journalistic writer, just political.”

Maybe he was worth the real answer, Eliza thought. “Well, in straightforward reporting, you’re just stating facts. With ghostwriting you have to… almost assume the worldview of your subject so you can produce something that doesn’t just pass as their voice, but holds up to scrutiny. And you don’t get to make up the story and decide the voice, like in fiction writing, so it becomes a puzzle. A storytelling puzzle. How do I put _this_ person’s unique spin on their life without contradicting reality?”

“But why _ghost_ writing specifically? Don’t you want credit for your work? Something to add to your legacy?”

“I’m telling their stories. That’s my legacy. And that’s enough.”

John’s return interrupted the conversation. “One chardonnay for Ms. Schuyler, one gin and tonic for Mr. Hamilton.” He pressed the glasses into their respective hands and grinned at them.

“Thank you,” Eliza said, taking a sip.

“Is there anyone else you need to meet?” John asked. “Or would you rather join Statler & Waldorf for the evening?”

Eliza raised one eyebrow. “I didn’t realize I’d aligned myself with the peanut gallery.”

“Ooh, that’s cold!” Alex laughed. “No, if you want the real peanut gallery go hang out with James and Dolley. They’re savage. We just like to argue and make up nicknames for Charles Lee.”

“Ah, yes, I got a preview of that earlier. I think he really liked ‘Chuck,’” she said.

Alex somehow flung his entire body into turning toward John. “‘Chuck’?!” he cried. “That’s weak, Laurens.”

“If he’d stuck around I would’ve upped it to Chuck E. Cheese,” John deadpanned. Even Eliza’s professional-event mask cracked at that. She snorted into her wine glass.

“Oh, very nice, Ms. Schuyler,” Alex said gravely, but his mouth was so contorted from hiding his smile that he set himself off into a fit of giggles.

John rolled his eyes but his expression was soft as he watched his boyfriend try to regain composure. His demeanor had been nonchalant enough at the office, but around Alex he seemed to gain a new gentleness in addition to a certain measure of bursting confidence. Eliza liked it.

“As much as I’d like to be a wallflower with the two of you, I should mingle for a little while and actually do my job,” she said, slowly cutting herself out of their sphere. “See you later?”

Alex was still giggling in spurts, so John replied, “We’ll make sure of it.” She faded into the crowd.

A gaggle of people listening raptly had gathered around Washington, who looked vaguely uncomfortable with the attention but continued his quiet speech nonetheless. Eliza caught his eye and kept moving. She liked to make herself ubiquitous but inconspicuous at these events, getting the lay of the social land surrounding a subject to color her writing.

Someone’s hand brushed her arm and she turned to see Mina. There was a slightly frantic gleam in her eye despite her impossibly polished exterior.

“Eliza!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad you made it. Did you find John?”

“Yes, he’s already introduced me around,” Eliza said with a calm smile, hoping to soothe Mina’s nerves if she could. “I’ll probably float for most of the evening, unless you’ve got someone specific in mind I should speak to.”

“No, no, you’re golden. Do your thing.” Mina backed away in the direction of the bar.

Eliza wandered around the party, chatting idly with various people and occasionally tucking herself into a corner to make quick notes in the memo book she always carried. It was during one of these retreats, just as she was starting to think about leaving, that Lafayette stumbled into her and let out an exaggerated gasp.

“Ma’m’selle, je suis désolé!” he cried. “I am so sorry.”

She smiled easily at him. “No drinks spilled, no harm done. Are you having fun?”

“Ah, yes, even the politician parties can be fun with the right people,” he told her, eyes twinkling. “You are all alone?”

“Just making notes,” she explained, holding up her notepad. “But I think I have all I need for tonight.”

“Then you can come with us!”

“Us?”

As if in answer to her skeptical query, John and Alexander almost fell through the nearest doorway. Alex was giggling again, pink-cheeked, and John had screwed up his whole face in a desperate attempt to keep from laughing at whatever they had just done or seen.

Lafayette said, “John and Alexander and I, we like to go out after the parties. Just for food and talk.”

“Eliza!” John noticed her and grinned goofily. “We’re gonna hit a diner a few blocks away, you should come!”

Alex chimed in with a breathy, “Yes!” through his laughter.

She hesitated. Going out socially with people involved in her projects was usually where she drew a line, but to be fair these weren’t the hard partiers she was used to covering—they were smart, charming young men who had to be at work in the morning. Plus, she was hungry. A little late-night dining wouldn’t be the end of the world. Did it even count as “late” at not even ten o’clock?

“Well, alright,” she said. “Just this once.”

It was like the sun was dawning in Alex’s face. Eliza smiled, just a bit.

They alerted Mina to their plans in case she wanted to join them, but she waved off the invitation. “I’ve got to go over tomorrow’s schedule with George and then, maybe, actually sleep, but have fun. Say hi to Mulligan for me. Don’t let them get you in trouble, Eliza.”

“Who’s Mulligan?” Eliza asked as they left.

“The best tailor and the biggest gossip in D.C.,” John told her. “Stay on his good side or you’ll get unflattering clothes and a sudden downturn in reputation.”

“He’s serious,” Alex chimed in. “Even if you don’t shop with him, somehow every alteration will turn out terribly. I think he controls some kind of fashion industry mafia.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Eliza assumed they were exaggerating, but she was still mostly a stranger in this group, so she didn’t feel entirely comfortable calling out their jokes the way she would with her own friends. For now it was probably best to stick to professional detachment.

The four of them trooped out of the building, Eliza and Lafayette trailing behind John and Alex, who each had one arm slung around the other’s waist.

“They’re cute,” she observed.

Lafayette grinned. “They cannot be separated. It is a problem sometimes because they are merciless in a fight.”

“Do they fight often?”

“With words, yes. You have seen the Twitter?”

Eliza groaned. “Oh, yes.”

“Somehow it is worse in person. We stay away from clubs these days because it is too easy for words to turn into fists. Fighting looks bad when you work for a Senator.”

“Have you been friends long?”

“Since I came to America. They were drunk and speaking French in a bar in New York on my second day here so I talked to them.”

“And you moved to D.C. with them?”

“They are my best friends and I had no reason to stay in New York when they left, so yes.”

Eliza hummed thoughtfully. They kept a comfortable silence for the rest of the walk, but she could tell that Alex was talking a mile a minute up ahead.

At the diner the four of them squeezed into a booth and put on their friendliest smiles for the young, tired waitress. Eliza noticed that John slipped into a Southern accent while placing his order. She was just relaxed enough to ask him, “What was that?”

He looked a little startled. “What was what?”

“The accent.”

His head thumped against the back of the booth. “Oh, god, I did it, didn’t I?”

Alex patted his arm. “You did, baby, but it’s cute.”

Lafayette looked between them with some confusion. “Did he do it? I still can’t hear the differences.”

“Yes, he did,” Alex confirmed. He grinned at Eliza. “When he’s trying to be nice the South Carolina comes out. It’s his most adorable habit.”

John scowled. “It’s not adorable, it’s embarrassing. I worked hard to get rid of that.”

“I know, baby.”

Before John could deepen his pout, a fifth person dragged a chair up to their table and settled in. The first words out of his mouth were, “You must be Eliza!”

She jumped slightly, not expecting to be addressed so quickly or directly. “Uh, yes, I am,” she said. “Are you Mulligan?”

His wide smile held only warmth. “That’s me. Nice to meet you.” He reached over Lafayette to shake her hand. “So how was that party?”

“It would’ve been a lot more fun if Mina had let me speak to Lee even once,” Alex griped. “John called him _Chuck_. Chuck! Can you believe it?! We can do better than that.”

John stuck out his tongue, making Eliza giggle. “I _told_ you, if he had hung around I would’ve called him Chuck E. Cheese.”

“Not good enough. Take it further. Take it as far as possible. Chuck E. Cheese becomes Dick Cheese.”

“Dick isn’t even a nickname for Charles,” Mulligan muttered, but he seemed reluctant to interrupt whatever was happening.

“Okay, okay, Dick Cheese,” John said, working off of Alex’s energy. “From Dick Cheese we get Toe Cheese.”

“Toe Cheese, Toe Jam.”

“Slow Jam?”

Alex shook his head. “Too much like a compliment.”

Leaning closer to Lafayette and Mulligan, Eliza murmured, “Do they do this often? Is this a thing?”

Mulligan rolled his eyes. Eliza decided she liked him. “Honestly, I can’t believe Washington still employs them. This happens at least twice a week.” Lafayette, on the other hand, looked totally captivated.

The waitress returned with their drinks then and the excited exchange subsided. She seemed suddenly familiar to Eliza. Just as the woman was turning away Eliza said, “Wait, are you Kitty Livingston?”

“Do I know you?” Kitty looked nervous. Eliza couldn’t blame her.

“I’m Eliza Schuyler, I’m Peggy’s sister.”

Kitty’s face brightened. “Oh! Yeah! It’s good to finally meet you! Tell Peggy I said hi?”

“Of course!”

Kitty disappeared into the kitchen again. When Eliza turned back to her companions she was met with four baffled expressions and some admiration on Alex’s part.

“How’d you do that?” Mulligan asked.

“What, recognize my sister’s friend? I see her Facebook posts all the time.”

“No, you got her to _talk_ ,” John said, incredulous. “We keep ending up here during her shifts and we’ve been trying to get a non-food-related response for months. Alex even tried flirting with her.”

“Have you tried leaving a poor girl alone when she’s just trying to do her job?” Eliza said drily. She immediately turned pink. She didn’t like speaking so frankly among people she barely knew, but she was distracted from her embarrassment by Alex loudly thunking his head onto the table.

“Oh, my gooooood,” he moaned. “We’re just being dicks. Jesus Christ. Oh my god, we need to apologize to her.”

“Let me talk to her,” Eliza sighed. “Excuse me.” Lafayette scooted out of their shared seat to let her pass. She stepped up to the counter and leaned against it to wait for Kitty to reemerge. The men behind her started whispering furiously among themselves after a few moments, but she ignored them and fiddled with her necklace.

Kitty started slightly when she saw Eliza at the counter, but approached with a customer-service smile.

“Hey, Kitty,” Eliza said gently. “Apparently these guys have been bugging you for months?”

“Oh,” Kitty murmured. “Yeah, a little.”

“They want to apologize to you.”

“Really?”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. That includes accepting an apology. I’ll back you up.”

“I’d rather just get through this shift, honestly,” Kitty whispered. “They don’t scare me like some guys, but it’s really tiring.”

“Then I’ll tell them to lay off.” Eliza smiled at her and went back to the table.

As she slid into the booth, she said to the group, “Just leave her alone, guys, all she wants is to do her job.”

“But can’t we—”

“No.” She cut Alex off without hesitation. “Order your food, exchange bland pleasantries, leave a nice tip, but do _not_ give this poor woman shit because she’s tired and concerned for her safety and doesn’t want to humor a bunch of arrogant dudes.”

To their credit, every single one looked appropriately chastened and kept their mouths shut for a good minute after Eliza’s scolding. She took a long sip of her water and enjoyed the silence, thinking to herself, So much for professional detachment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Lo for helping me trash Charles Lee. <3


	4. Chapter 4

Eliza spent Thursday nervously waiting for Friday and her meeting with the Washingtons. She managed to get ahead in her work thanks to the extra jittery energy, but in between bursts of writing she couldn’t stop pulling up Martha Washington’s Google search.

Martha Dandridge Custis Washington. She was an impressive woman, apparently charitable to a fault, and well able to keep up with her husband’s political undertakings despite never having finished her intended degree at Newcomb College. She headed up a small organization that distributed regular meals to poor families in her county during school breaks and was a board member for several local veteran-focused services; judging by the news articles, she was entirely unafraid of using her husband’s clout in the government to garner support for her causes. It seemed to Eliza that Martha was perhaps more comfortable with George’s influence than the Senator himself.

Aside from the woman’s many public accomplishments, Eliza had heard her parents sing Martha’s praises for years. Humble, hospitable, and full of good humor, in the Schuylers’ eyes Mrs. Washington could do no wrong. Catherine Schuyler even declared her “the model of a modern Southern woman,” which Eliza rolled her eyes at, because what would a New York native know about Southerners?

Thanks to this glowing reputation, Martha was becoming almost a mythic figure for Eliza as she obsessively combed through media mentions and sent Angelica increasingly frantic texts. Angelica, of course, being the determined older sister she was, insistently reassured Eliza that Martha would like her, Martha was lovely, Martha was not a woman to fear.

_You’ve never met her! How can you know?!_

_Eliza, take a deep breath._ Eliza scowled at the message but obediently closed her eyes and followed her sister’s instruction.

_Okay, done with breathing, now what_

Angelica replied with an eye-roll emoji and added, _You sound like Peggy._

Somehow Eliza made it through the day, even if she was distracted during dinner with Peggy, and gratefully slid into bed that night. She watched lights dance through the curtains, mulling over her conversation topics for the morning, trying to will her body into relaxation and sleep.

Surely meeting Martha wouldn’t be so bad. There had to be substance behind the hype, including her reputed kindness. Eliza berated herself for being so nervous and finally fell asleep with endless questions whirling in her mind.

Friday morning dawned gloomy, an unfortunate holdover of lingering spring. Eliza tried to dress practically in case of rain. Peggy brought her a cup of coffee while she stared out the window, braiding her hair into a crown around her head.

“Oh, thanks, Pegs,” Eliza said with a smile. She placed one last hairpin and accepted the mug.

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat before you go? Like cereal or something?”

“It's a breakfast meeting, don't you think they'll have breakfast?” Eliza meant her tone to be teasing, but judging by Peggy’s reassuring touch she must have let some worry slip through. “I'll be fine. But thanks.”

Peggy pecked her on the cheek and went about her own morning routine.

After leaving the apartment Eliza made her way quickly through the streets, watching the sky anxiously for signs of rain, but arrived unscathed at the small restaurant whose address Mina had texted her the day before. She tucked her umbrella into her bag, checked the drape of her blouse in the large street windows, and took a long, calming breath.

A bell over the door chimed when she pushed it open. The place was decently busy without being chaotic, just the right level of activity to conduct a casual interview. Mina caught her arm when she was barely two steps inside.

“Eliza, great timing!” she said. “George and Martha just sat down. Come on, they’re in the back.”

Eliza let herself be lightly tugged along. “Mina, do you take a single moment off?”

“Nope.”

They wove through scattered patrons toward the back of the restaurant. Eliza glanced at the people they passed—mostly middle-aged, mostly white—but utterly failed to distract herself from the nerves. Finally Mina stopped at a small corner table and released Eliza’s arm.

“Martha! Let me introduce you to Eliza Schuyler. Eliza, this is Martha Washington.”

Martha rose slowly from her seat, smiling warmly at Eliza. She leaned lightly on the table with one hand and offered the other.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Eliza.” Her voice was deep and calm around her Virginia accent, her dark eyes appraising but bright and kind. Her husband watched her lovingly as he stood and let one hand hover at the small of her back.

“It’s an honor,” Eliza said with as much confidence as she could muster, clasping Martha’s hand. “George, it’s good to see you.”

“You, too,” George replied. “Please, have a seat.”

They all settled into their chairs just as a waiter arrived to take their drink orders and leave menus. Eliza only glanced at hers long enough to make a quick choice, not wanting to waste time skimming through every item.

“So, Martha,” Eliza began once Martha set her own menu aside, “I’d love to know more about you and your work.”

“Oh, I didn’t expect to answer questions about _me_ ,” she said, looking slightly affronted. “I was only here to dish on George.” She patted her husband’s hand and he chuckled gently.

Eliza felt nerves clutch at her polite expression but didn’t let it budge. “Of course, George is the primary subject, but you are a significant part of his life…” Had she already messed this up?

To Eliza’s surprise, Martha threw back her head in a hearty laugh. “Honey, I _am_ his life. You stick with me and we’ll get this whole thing sorted out in no time.” She leaned in conspiratorially, giving George a judgmental glance, and said, “Did you know he cut up a cherry tree on his daddy’s property when he was a boy and felt so bad that he owned up to it before the man could lift a finger?”

George huffed. “Don’t fill her up with fictions, Martha.”

“He was wailing repentance all the way up the drive. ‘Oh, Daddy, I can’t tell a lie!’”

The grip of Eliza’s nerves loosened at Martha's cackle. She cracked a smile and glanced at George. His imperturbable mask was belied by the tenderness in his eyes when he watched his wife, the same tenderness behind the grin Martha shot him.

“I can’t fathom why you insist on telling that story,” George said gravely.

“It gives you some color.”

“I’m colorful,” George insisted, but Eliza caught Martha’s cynical eye-roll.

“Eliza, tell me. Has he told you _anything_ about his personal life you couldn’t’ve found online?”

“No, uh, ma’am,” Eliza said. Ma’am was right, wasn’t it? “Would you like to see the notes?” She pulled her notebook out of her bag and flipped to the section marked _Private life._ The only addition to her typed preliminary research was a few scribbled bullet points that she’d gleaned from Lafayette.

“Oh, George,” Martha tutted. “This is disgraceful. You’ve got this poor girl running around after you for facts and you’ve given her nothing to work with. Eliza, let me apologize for my husband.”

“There’s no need,” Eliza said, but Martha was already pulling a pocket calendar from her purse.

“Now, have you planned a trip out to Mount Vernon yet?”

“Yes, I have. Ma’am. With Lafayette. Next Friday.”

“Wonderful!” Martha cried, penciling a brief note into her calendar. “Between me and him we’ll get you all set up. You’ll be a certified George Washington expert.” Here she winked at Eliza and tucked her calendar away. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry, I completely derailed from your question earlier.”

“Right! Yes. About your work?”

“Well, let’s see, what do you want to know?”

The three of them chatted for almost an hour, mostly about Martha and George’s history. Martha was an animated conversationalist and, much like Peggy, tended to gesture with her hands and anything they might be holding. She often tossed teasing remarks at George, who remained stoic but couldn’t conceal the fond twinkle in his eye. Eliza made a few quick observational notes on the ease of their interactions. She was already glad to have met Martha.

George’s inevitable departure came all too soon. Eliza found that she was genuinely enjoying herself by the end of the meeting. The couple was lively and entertaining together, still utterly infatuated after decades of marriage, and their relationship seemed like an obvious choice to become an important feature of the writing project.

Martha planted a gentle kiss on George’s cheek at the door and told him, “Puddin’, I want you home early, alright? If I’m leaving in the morning I want to see your sweet face tonight.” Eliza had to quickly hide a delighted smile at the endearment, but to give them a moment of privacy she instead surveyed the dissipating clouds overhead.

“I wouldn’t dream of depriving you, my dear,” George said. He kissed Martha again. “Eliza, have a lovely day, and I will see you Monday morning, I believe.”

“You will,” she responded brightly, and briefly shook his offered hand. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Then I take my leave, ladies.” George nodded rather formally at the two of them and strode down the sidewalk toward the spot where Mina waited.

“Well, Eliza, is your day all scheduled, or do you have any room to tromp around?” Martha was smiling warmly at her.

“I think I could arrange things to free up some time,” Eliza said. She returned Martha’s smile.

Martha cheerfully linked their elbows and patted Eliza’s hand. “Well then! I could use a nice walk around the park. What do you say?”

“Lead on!”

They strolled down the street toward the nearest park, conversing intently about Eliza’s project. Martha wanted to know about every article she’d read, every website she’d visited, every piece of information Eliza already had so that she could personally supplement it. Before long Eliza pulled out her small recorder again to capture Martha’s off-the-cuff anecdotes and personal jokes.

As they wandered through the greenery, Martha prodded Eliza more and more for her own background, asking pointed questions about her family, education, and work. Her dark eyes lit up with mischievous excitement when Eliza admitted that she was single.

“Ooh, honey, if you ever want to change that you come to me. I know all the senators’ sons.” She winked and laughed while Eliza blushed.

Finally Eliza bid Martha goodbye, thanking her for her help and promising to be in touch as she and Lafayette planned their trip. She headed for Peggy’s apartment and called Angelica on the way.

She answered with a bright, “Hey, babe!”

“You sound remarkably calm for a Friday afternoon,” Eliza observed.

“I had the day off but Joanne is at work and the kids have school. Relaxing is weird.”

“You actually relaxed?!”

“Oh, hush, I know how to relax.”

“Hmm, no, I don’t believe that.”

“Did you have something to say or are you just here to annoy me?” As much as she might feign irritation, Angelica could never hide the sisterly warmth in her words. Eliza grinned.

“I wanted to update you, since I met Martha Washington this morning.”

“Oh my god, E, I totally forgot! Christ, I’m a bad sister.”

“No, never,” Eliza soothed. “You’re a wonderful sister, Angie. Anyway. You were right, she’s lovely, and I think we got along just wonderfully.”

“That’s great!” Angelica cried. “I’m so excited for you, babe.”

“Me, too,” Eliza said, grateful for her sister’s enthusiasm. “I’m really looking forward to seeing Mount Vernon next week now.”

“What’s the itinerary for that?”

Eliza quickly filled Angelica in on the tentative plan she’d put together with Lafayette: traveling to Virginia, touring the Washingtons’ property, visiting neighbors and other important local figures. She cut off the explanation with a gasp when she suddenly recalled a piece of vital information.

“Oh! Angie! Oh my goodness, I can’t believe this wasn’t the first thing I told you, she calls George _puddin’_.”

There was a moment of silence on the line before Angelica lost her composure entirely.

“Eliza,” she gasped, “thank you, you have just made my life with this information. _Puddin’_. Like, drops the ‘g’ and everything?”

“Yep. They’re actually a really cute couple,” Eliza said. She faintly heard the slamming of a door on Angelica’s end, followed quickly by a child’s yell.

“Aaaand there’s Philip,” Angelica laughed. “Do you want to say hi?”

“I always want to say hi to my favorite nephew!”

“He’s your _only_ nephew,” Angelica reminded her, but called to Philip to ask if he wanted to speak to his aunt.

“Hi, Auntie Liza!” he cried when Angelica put him on. “We wrote stories at school today.”

“Ooh, was yours the best?” Eliza asked.

“Nah, but it was pretty good. When are you coming here?”

Eliza laughed at his typical seven-year-old's lack of conversational aplomb. “How about I come for Christmas?”

“Yeah! Mama, Auntie Liza is gonna come for Christmas!”

“That’s great, Phil,” Angelica responded in the background. “Can I talk to Auntie Liza again? Tell her goodbye.”

“Bye Auntie!”

“Bye, Phil.”

“So, Christmas, huh?” Angelica laughed. “I guess it’s not too early to plan.”

“It was just a suggestion,” Eliza said. “Although I’ve probably got Philip latched onto that now, so it might as well be a plan.”

“Sounds good to me. We always love having you around at holidays. See if you can talk Pegs into it, too.”

“Will do. Love you, Angie.”

“Love you too, E! Talk to you soon.”

Once she’d reached Peggy’s apartment, Eliza flipped open her planner to survey her progress on various assignments. She really had gotten a lot done the day before, enough that she was easily a full day ahead of schedule. On that note she decided to follow Angelica’s lead and relax for a while.

She pulled some leftovers out of the fridge for lunch and unpinned her hair while the food reheated, letting the locks hang loose around her shoulders for the moment. As she made her way into the living room with the bowl of red beans Eliza kicked her shoes off and rummaged in her bag for a novel, then tucked herself against the arm of the couch and happily settled in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any Newcomb girls in the audience?


	5. Chapter 5

After the success of the meeting with George and Martha, Monday rolled around with a certain degree of excitement for Eliza. The day of shadowing started early, so she popped into her new favorite coffee shop to grab a drink, then continued to the Washington offices with an optimistic bounce in her step. She slipped in just in time to catch everyone gathering for their weekly staff meeting.

John greeted her with his usual impossibly wide smile. “Eliza! Good to see you again.”

“You, too,” she said, approaching his desk. She leaned one hip casually against it and hoped the gesture wasn’t an overstep, but his open expression betrayed no annoyance — not with her, at least. He scowled comically when Charles Lee emerged from his office.

“Still antagonizing, huh?” Eliza asked. She glanced over at him while she sipped her chai.

“Lee is an ongoing project,” he said. “We’re very devoted to the cause. Alex has a running list of nicknames in his planner now, actually.”

“Where is he?” She didn’t see Hamilton in the growing crowd of staffers. Most of them were chatting quietly amongst themselves; others stared into the middle distance while clutching mugs or paper cups. Eliza took another sip.

“Running errands,” John said.

Eliza raised an eyebrow. “He’s missing a staff meeting to run errands? That doesn’t mesh with what I’ve heard about him.”

“Oh, he won’t miss it, but there’s a lot you haven’t heard about Alex. Hey, there he is. Babe!” John called across the room to Hamilton, who’d just stepped in holding several grocery bags. Alex grinned.

“Gooooood morning,” he said, dropping the bags on the desk. He laid a quick kiss on John and greeted Eliza chipperly.

“How many did you get?” John asked. He was already poking through the bags, inspecting whatever they held.

“Four dozen.”

John rolled his eyes. “You know there’s only fifteen people in this office, right?”

“People get hungry, John. Besides, it’s Monday, and everyone likes something nice to improve it.”

“Well, an insane number of donuts will sure do it.”

“Four dozen is not insane,” Alex muttered, and hauled the bags into the conference room. Eliza spotted several people eyeing them curiously.

“Does he, uh, do this often?” she asked John.

“He gets on weird motherly tangents sometimes,” he explained. “Tries to feed the whole office, adopt pets, donate to charities, et cetera. I usually talk him down because he does not, in fact, have an infinite salary, but some donuts won’t break the bank.”

“Huh.” _That_ certainly didn’t mesh with Eliza’s picture of Hamilton, but she supposed she should know by now not to make assumptions.

The staff slowly trickled into the conference room with Eliza trailing behind. It turned out that Washington was in an unplanned closed-door meeting, so she might as well observe the workings of his support team. She tucked herself into the doorway to watch the meeting while waiting for the Senator.

Lee stood at the front of the room with his arms crossed, grumpily waiting for the swarm around the donuts to subside. He sneered slightly at Alex, who looked more genuinely happy than smug, although he apparently couldn’t resist throwing a glowing smile in Lee’s direction.

“Alright, come on,” Lee finally snapped, waving away the last people gathered around the food. “Leave it alone, let’s get started.” Everyone reluctantly settled into chairs or along the walls. Most were shuffling papers or still whispering. Lee glowered out at them until uneasy quiet descended. Eliza made a mental note to tread carefully with him.

The meeting began with a monotonous introduction of the agenda by Lee, followed by his rundown of the Senate’s activities for the week with brief indication of the legislative assistants who would be most heavily involved. Alex scribbled furiously on his legal pad the whole time and merely raised his pen in acknowledgment when Lee mentioned his name. At his side, John painted a perfect picture of contrast by lounging back in his chair and fiddling idly with the papers before him. Eliza noticed that he would occasionally glance over at Alex’s notes and point silently at something he’d written. Lee didn’t seem to see these exchanges.

Eliza didn’t realize that her focus had wandered until Lee ceded the floor to John. She shook her head a little just to wake up and shifted against the doorframe, wondering how long Washington’s meeting would take.

She finished her quickly cooling drink while John made announcements about scheduling and supply orders. The whole meeting lasted only half an hour, during which Alex wrote non-stop and half of his donuts were devoured.

When everyone began to move haphazardly toward the door, Eliza slipped out and leaned against the waiting room wall. She tapped her wristwatch idly. How long could an early-morning meeting take? It wasn’t that she was impatient; she was just excited and a little anxious to get started.

While she stared at the seconds ticking past, Alexander stepped up to lounge casually at her side.

“So,” he began. “Shadowing today, huh?”

“What? Oh, yeah.” Eliza let a polite smile flash across her face. “Will you be around?”

Something leapt in her chest in the bare moment before he answered the question. She _wanted_ to see him, she realized, wanted to spend the day with his engaging presence always on hand.

“Yeah, actually, I will. There’s a lot of economic wrangling going down this week so Washington’ll need me close by,” he said, looking proud.

Eliza felt her ears flush with pleasure that quickly changed to embarrassment. She was working, dammit! She couldn’t waste time mooning after a guy who was already in a relationship. Pull yourself together, she scolded silently.

He was smiling at her, that same bright grin, not teasing like it had been when directed at Lee but… luminous. The flush in Eliza’s ears crept onto her cheeks.

Washington’s voice in the hallway saved her.

“Well, I’ll see you around then,” she said quickly, pushing away from the wall. Alex seemed startled but she turned and fled to George before he could say anything more.

“Good morning, Senator!” Eliza chirped as she met George in the hall.

“Eliza, good morning,” he said in his usual grave tone. “I apologize for keeping you waiting. Confidential business, you understand.”

“Yes, of course.” She looked to Mina, trailing behind George and tapping away at her iPad. “Good morning, Mina!”

“Hey, Eliza, good to have you back.” Mina’s words were distant as she focused on her work. After a moment she glanced up with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, just trying to get all the notes together. How are you?”

“Oh, fine,” Eliza said. “Good weekend?”

“I slept, so yeah,” Mina laughed.

George’s brow wrinkled minutely in concern. “Are you not sleeping, Mina?”

“It’s all in good service,” Mina told him in a mock-serious voice. She winked at Eliza. “Well, shall we get going? Busy day, long hours with Hamilton ahead of us, I’d say the sooner we get started the sooner it’s over but we all know that’s a vain hope with him.”

“I heard that!” Alex called, poking his head around the corner. He scowled theatrically at Mina.

“Yeah, well, it’s true, so shut it,” she replied.

“Please,” Washington sighed. “Must we do this today? In front of a journalist, no less?”

Eliza leaned in to mutter to George, “I’ve seen worse.” He lifted one eyebrow but didn’t respond.

Mina and Alex bickered cordially all the way to their first meeting, where they’d be collaborating on some legislation with a few other Congress members. They tried to drag Eliza into the conversation, but she shook her head, saying, “I’m here to observe. I refuse to get involved in this.”

Instead she turned to George, hoping to draw some more information out of him. “So, Senator,” she said, conspicuously clicking her recorder on and holding it between them, “what inspires your particular dedication to the economic issues being addressed today?”

He pondered the question for a few moments, obviously wanting to imbue his answer with appropriate gravity.

“There are people suffering for the mistakes that we’ve made,” he finally said. “I want to rectify this. All our citizens ought to be safe in the nation we’ve spent the last two centuries building.”

“Then why economics? You don’t have a background in the subject. It’s been widely noted that you rely heavily on assistants like Hamilton to draft the legislation.”

He glanced sideways at her, in offense or hesitation she couldn’t tell, but kept walking. “Military strategy will not help the poor. Hamilton knows his business, and so I value his advice.”

Eliza knew that Washington was a man of few words, but it was still frustrating to poke and prod for every sentence. How was she going to drag an entire book out of this if he never elaborated? She quelled the feeling anyway and continued to prompt Washington for answers until they reached their destination.

Once the day’s meetings started, a clear pattern of interaction emerged: although Washington was ostensibly in charge, he let Hamilton take the lead and only offered quiet commentary and stoic support to his determined aide. Alexander, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of data and solutions, presenting rapid-fire ideas to the room without pausing for his audience's reaction. Eliza couldn’t deny she was impressed with his boldness.

For her part, Eliza took advantage of Washington’s minimal involvement to slip in additional questions. His answers seemed to come easier in these small bites, rather than when he was on the spot to deliver a large chunk of information.

“Why did you choose to join the military?” she would ask, tearing her gaze away from Alex, who was talking and writing at the same time.

“It seemed a good option considering my position in life,” George said. “I was a young man with little direction despite a college education and the Army gave me a purpose. Though I must admit it also appealed to certain... martyr-like fantasies.” His tone fell flatly unamused on the last phrase. He clearly preferred to distance himself from that particular youthful impulse.

“And why did you retire when you did?”

He paused to consider. “I still wanted to serve, but the military wasn’t the right place to do it any more. I realized that dying for one’s country is easy. Living for it is harder. And the people deserved that from me.”

A sense of awe crept into Eliza at this selflessness. She could hardly imagine dedicating her life to a single cause for good or ill; she saw too much contradictory nuance in such a pledge, too many paths leading the wrong way.

“Do you ever question those decisions?”

George squared his jaw and answered simply, “Any man of conscience would.”

Before Eliza could follow up on that claim, Washington was drawn back into the legislative proceedings to reign in an increasingly belligerent Hamilton.

The legislators and their assistants struggled through negotiations for hours until they finally called a break. As the room emptied Alex remained at the conference table, bent over another legal pad, flipping through pages with his pen clenched between his teeth. Mina tossed a ball of crumpled paper at his head.

“What,” he said without looking up, obviously accustomed to this treatment.

“It’s way after lunch, you gonna come eat?” Mina asked.

“Where are you eating?”

Mina turned expectantly to George, who said, “I thought Eliza ought to have the cafeteria experience.”

Alex’s eyes never left his notes. “Okay then, Mina knows what I get, my wallet’s in my jacket.” He tipped his head toward the blazer, draped over a neighboring chair.

While she dug through his pockets Mina told him, “One of these days I’m gonna rob you blind in retaliation for this, you know. I’m not _your_ assistant.”

He shrugged. “Not like there’s much to steal. No tomato, please.”

Mina swatted Alex affectionately on the head with his own wallet before returning it and tucking a few bills into her pocket.

“Shall we?” George asked, indicating with a gesture that Eliza and Mina should lead the way. They filed out into the hall.

“Bye,” Alex called as the door swung shut.

The cafeteria was still busy despite the relatively late hour, but George and Mina’s lack of surprise at the level of activity led Eliza to conclude that regular meal schedules were not a typical feature of Congressional life. They each chose their preferred lunch from the offerings and gathered at a small table near a window. Mina set aside a small box with Hamilton's sandwich. Eliza retrieved her recorder once again.

“If you don’t mind?” she asked, glancing at her companions once they’d all had a chance to dig into their lunches. They both nodded assent and she clicked the device on.

“Mina, how did you come to work for George?”

Mina crunched through the last bite of a carrot stick before answering. “I served under him in the Army, actually.”

That startled Eliza. “I didn’t realize you were military.”

“Oh, yeah, I did ROTC in college and everything. It worked out that George’s old assistant decided to retire right as I was finishing my service, and he was still keeping tabs on me even after leaving, so he offered me this job. Can’t say I regret it yet.” She grinned brashly at Washington.

George neatly wiped his mouth, then said, “Nor do I. Mina is expertly organized, as I would expect of a former officer, and she has the additional charm of being rather personable.”

“Oh, George, you flatter me,” Mina laughed.

He cast a beseeching look at the ceiling. “Although I must say she is far more impertinent now than during her service. Perhaps I should have stayed with the Army.”

“Sure, but did you have a Hamilton in the Army?” Mina asked, starting in on another carrot stick. “That would just be no fun.”

George merely pursed his lips and returned to his sandwich.

“So what’s Hamilton’s story?” Eliza prompted, more willing to show her curiosity now that Mina had mentioned Alexander. “I mean, I know his official vague bio, but how’d he end up here?”

“He was working for some state senator up in New York,” Mina began. “Who was it, Schuyler?” She suddenly realized the significance of the name and whipped her head to look at Eliza. “Wait.”

Eliza couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you kidding me? He worked for my dad?”

Mina joined her giggling. “I cannot freaking believe we didn’t put that together until now. And how did _he_ not say anything?”

“There’s no way he wouldn’t realize the connection,” Eliza said. “Anyway, not the point. I’ll ask him about it later. George, why Hamilton?”

Washington had watched their exchange with apparent, if silent, amusement. Now he said, “To be perfectly candid, I needed him. I was friendly with one of his former professors at Columbia, Henry Knox, who recommended Hamilton when I mentioned my sudden lack of an economic assistant after Morris left. We got in touch, organized an interview, and rather promptly hired him.”

“Not that he was happy about it,” Mina noted.

All Eliza had to do was tilt her head quizzically to elicit an explanation.

“Something about being too far from the action,” Mina said with an eyeroll. “Because there was so much action to be had as a low-level employee of a state senator’s satellite office.”

“He was certainly not being used to his full potential,” George remarked. “Although sometimes I wonder if even this work challenges him.”

Mina paused with her Coke can halfway to her mouth to say, “Whether or not it does, he works damn hard on it.” George nodded in somber agreement. After taking a large sip Mina continued. “We try — well, Lee does — to keep him involved on the ground as much as possible, like that Puerto Rico trip last week, but it gets tiring for the rest of us because he comes back all fired up and trying to write checks to whatever organization caught his eye. Thank god for Laurens. He’s usually not much of one for impulse control but he’s got Hamilton’s number.” She grinned to herself for a moment and added, “In more ways than one.”

George closed his eyes and released a slow breath through his nose. “Must you do this to me?”

“Come on, you think they’re cute, too,” Mina said.

“I will not discuss my employees’ private relationships, Mina, and I do not appreciate your doing so either.” He gathered his lunch tray with a reproving look at his assistant and strode toward the trash cans.

Mina sighed, looking mildly embarrassed. “Sorry you had to witness that, Eliza. Really, though, you should ask Martha about John and Alex. She’s got opinions with a capital O.”

“Noted,” Eliza murmured as they both stood to follow George back into their grueling schedule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my one true weakness...... Alexander "Momfriend" Hamilton


	6. Chapter 6

After lunch, George, Mina, and Eliza headed for another senator’s office. They were just about to walk in the door when a short shriek nearby made Eliza jump. Alex Hamilton skidded around a corner and nearly fell over, slamming his bag against the wall to stop his momentum. He stumbled forward a couple of steps, then bent double to catch his breath.

“Alexander,” George said.

Hamilton raised one hand in greeting, the other braced on his thigh. He was still gasping for air.

George’s brow furrowed minutely. “Did you run here, son?”

Alex lifted his head enough to make a face at the Senator, though he was apparently still unable to muster words. Mina took the opportunity to cut in with her own commentary.

“I told you to start setting calendar reminders on your phone,” she said.

Alex shook his head and swallowed before saying, “Takes too long.”

Mina rolled her eyes. “It’s either that or start doing cardio, dude. You’re a mess.”

He grimaced. “Don’t you try to drag me into the cult of exercise, too. I get it enough from John. Stupid crazy runners.”

George cleared his throat. “Hamilton, if you are quite finished insulting those who take fitness seriously, I believe we have a meeting to attend.”

Alex gathered himself and fell in a step behind Eliza as the group moved toward the door.

“Oh, wait, Alex,” Mina said, turning back to him. “Take your sandwich.” She quickly handed off the box and his change.

“Thanks,” he said with a smile. He glanced over at Eliza. “You survive the cafeteria?”

She half-smiled at him. “It was better than most I’ve frequented, so yeah, I survived.”

“Certainly better than Columbia’s, right?”

“I’m not sure I ever ate there, actually. The journalism grads tended to gravitate away from campus for food.”

“Well, you didn’t miss much,” Alex muttered. “I was subjected to it pretty much every day for three years in undergrad.”

“Unfortunate,” Eliza said consolingly.

“At least I ate,” Alex said a little too casually as he held the door open for Eliza.

She wondered at his tone but nodded in acknowledgment of the gesture and said, “Thanks.”

The four of them spent the rest of the day shuttling between offices and conference rooms, occasionally meeting up with other Washington staffers, and gulping down coffee whenever they got a chance. The schedule was arduous enough that by early evening Eliza wished she could have snuck away to take a nap.

When the final meeting ground to an exhausted halt and everyone agreed to pick it up the next day, Eliza gratefully stuffed her notes and recorder into her bag and bade George goodnight. Outside the room she leaned against the cool wall and tipped her head back, eyes closed. Maybe a brief moment of rest would give her the energy to get back to Peggy’s apartment. Hopefully there would even be some food there.

“You okay?” Hamilton’s voice startled Eliza. She opened her eyes to find his face full of concern. He looked like he’d stopped mid-stride to check on her.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, it’s just been a long day,” she explained with a sigh. “Gotta get back to my sister’s apartment if I can find the willpower.”

“You wanna… grab a bite?” He shuffled uncertainly in front of her. Was he nervous? How odd. “I know it’s kinda late for traditional dinner, but might as well have the energy to get home, right? I mean I know a place right around the corner that’s really quick and cheap, I’m not trying to drag you out all night or anything, I just thought… um.” His words stumbled to a stop.

Eliza smiled reassuringly while she considered the idea. She _was_ pretty hungry, and it would certainly be easier to make it to the apartment without the distraction of an empty stomach. Besides, she needed to get some information from Alex.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Eliza finally said. “Do you want to go get John or anybody…?”

“Oh, he went home already. He learned long ago not to wait on my meetings.”

Eliza snorted a tired laugh. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Come on, Schuyler, you’re sassing me already?” he teased. Eliza noticed a new warmth in his eyes now, something that made his gaze linger on her face. She dismissed it as the effects of exhaustion.

His use of her last name, though, reminded her of that afternoon’s conversation with George and Mina.

“Hey,” she began, “speaking of Schuylers, Mina said you worked for my dad back in New York.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, quite obviously nervous now. “For about a year. It was just part-time.”

“Why didn’t you mention it?”

He huffed, half-laughing. “I wasn’t exactly close to him. I think I saw him all of once. From a distance. And it was a while ago now. Like, that hardly counts as a connection, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Eliza murmured. Alex looked so worried that she decided to drop the subject. It was a strange coincidence, sure, but he’d hardly deceived her. They barely knew each other. In Eliza’s opinion, it wasn’t worth pursuing. As they dragged themselves down the hall toward the exit she tried a more casual tack.

“So what’s this place we’re going to?”

“It’s another diner. I tend to frequent them,” he explained with a grin. “But the coffee is cheaper than Starbucks and they give me refills, so…”

“All about the economic efficiency, I see.”

“Again with the sass!” he cried. “I like cheap caffeine. Sue me.” He threw an exaggerated glance up and down the sparsely populated hall before adding, “Actually please don’t. I don’t think George would be very happy about his economic assistant being sued by a Schuyler.”

Eliza snorted and shook her head. “Your assets are safe from me. Keep your coffee.”

She spotted Alex giving her another peculiar look, but before she could think about it they were out the door and heading into the night.

It was a lovely evening for a walk, comfortably warm without the penetrating humidity of summer, and Eliza found herself smiling at the breeze that ruffled the trees overhead. Alex’s hand brushed briefly against hers as they strolled down the sidewalk. Eliza felt a blush creep into her cheeks.

“Hey, do you mind if I interview you a little bit while we’re out?” she asked. It seemed a silly thing to confirm, since she was only here because of the book project, but Eliza had the sudden feeling that Alex would want… a warning, or something. That he might be taken by surprise if she interrupted a casual dinner with work. “Since, well, you’ve worked so closely with George the last few years.”

“Oh, of course,” Alex said, looking surprised and a little confused. “I kind of figured everything was one long interview.”

Was Eliza imagining that his tone dipped toward disappointment? She gave him a small smile anyway. “Yeah, sorry about that. Comes with the territory.” She sighed. “Sometimes it feels like my whole life is interviews and I never actually get to know people on their own terms.”

Alex stopped and grabbed her hand, saying, “Hey, that’s not true. John and Lafayette and I all loved hanging out with you the other night. If it’s friends you want, we’re down.”

Grateful warmth bloomed in Eliza’s chest as a more genuine smile spread across her face. “Really?”

“Absolutely!” Alex cried. “Seriously, you are so cool and smart but somehow also really nice, like, what more could I possibly want in a friend?”

Laughter made Eliza feel lighter. She had _friends_. Less than a week she’d been in D.C., and already she’d found a group of people who wanted to spend time with her.

A fierce flush crossed Alex’s face when he realized he was still holding her hand and he dropped it abruptly. He giggled nervously. “Sorry, I get fired up.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eliza said. “Really. Come on, let’s go eat, I think we’re both running on low blood sugar.”

“That’s basically my state of being,” Alex admitted with a sheepish grin. “But yeah, food is good.”

At the diner they claimed a booth by the large front windows. When Eliza’s tea and Alex’s water and coffee arrived, he downed the entire glass of water in seconds. Eliza raised an eyebrow questioningly and asked, “Thirsty?”

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Hercules made me start drinking a full glass of water for every cup of coffee I have. I’m very well hydrated now.”

“I take it you were mostly just caffeinated before?”

“Yeah, well, he watched me chug energy drinks to get through college, so I can kind of see where he’s coming from.”

That comment piqued Eliza’s interest. “You’ve known him that long?”

“Yep. He worked in the costume shop on the Columbia campus. I met him accidentally when I got very lost my first week, and then he decided to be my mom I guess.” He shrugged one shoulder and poured cream into his coffee.

“Did he move down here with you and John, like Lafayette?”

“No, actually, he opened his own shop here while I was still in law school. Serendipitous.” He began tearing open sugar packets and methodically pouring them into the coffee, then tucking the paper under his saucer. Eliza counted four sugars before the waiter returned to take their orders.

“So Eliza,” Alex said as the waiter moved away. “Before we begin the interview portion of the evening, could I… do you mind if I ask about you?”

That startled her a little. She wasn’t used to being the subject, especially while on her own research trips, but it seemed harmless enough. “Well, sure,” she told him. “What do you want to know? I won’t say I’m an open book, but… ask away, I guess.”

“I was wondering,” he began, somewhat hesitantly. “You said earlier that you don’t usually get to know people. What do you… what did you mean by that?”

“Oh.” The question caught her off guard. “That’s kind of personal, um…”

“Oh, god, I’m sorry,” Alex said hurriedly. “I’m sorry, don’t —”

“No, no, no,” Eliza cut him off. “I just wasn’t expecting it. I don’t mind the question. I meant… well, I’m always out on assignments, you know? Either books or articles, and I don’t take a lot of personal time while I’m on trips. I know some people do, but I like to stick to the task at hand. This one’s a little different because my sister’s here,” she clarified, “but in general I’m not the making-friends-during-work type. I mean, I _have_ friends,” she added, a little defensively.

“I never doubted,” Alex whispered, staring into his coffee cup when she looked at him.

“A lot of my journalism friends moved away after they finished the program, though, so even when I’m in New York it’s not exactly a vast social circle. Really, my sisters are my most reliable friends,” she said, then glanced down at the table in embarrassment. When she looked up, Alex’s piercing, dark gaze had shifted to meet her eyes.

“Well,” he said quietly, “like I said, you’ve got friends here, in us.” His hand twitched slightly on the tabletop as if he wanted to reach out for her, but Eliza tucked her own hands away protectively into her lap. Friends were okay, and she didn’t mind that he’d grabbed her hand outside earlier, but she didn’t want to seek… comfort, or whatever it was, from someone she barely knew.

Besides, she could hardly be seen holding hands in public with a guy who had a boyfriend.

Alex curled his fingers back toward himself and Eliza turned to look out the window. The dark tableau beyond the glass was muddled by the reflected diner interior. She watched Alex in profile duck his head and lift his coffee cup for a sip, then turn toward their returning waiter. Eliza waited a moment longer before bringing her attention back to the table and thanking the waiter for their food.

“Eliza, I’m sorry,” Alex murmured as she reached for a ketchup bottle. “That was out of line, I didn’t think about it. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s your life, you’re just doing your job here.”

Eliza wrinkled her brow a little. “It’s not — I’m not offended, or anything, Alex. It took me by surprise is all. And I didn’t… well, I don’t talk about my personal life much, so honestly it was kind of weird to say out loud that I don’t exactly have a thriving social network. I never thought about it much before.”

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

When Eliza looked at Alex, all she saw was well-meaning concern. She took a deep breath. “Sure. Why not. I’m handing over the reins of this interview, Mr. Hamilton, take it away.”

He grinned and laughed a little. “You may regret ceding me that kind of power, Ms. Schuyler.”

“Don’t kid yourself, I still have all the power. I’m the professional here.” She smirked at him.

He raised his eyebrows and said, “Ohh, I see how it is. This is an ego-stroking thing. I don’t appreciate that, Eliza.”

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t think you need the help,” Eliza deadpanned.

Alex stared at her for a moment, gobsmacked, before a burst of giggles overtook him. They quickly grew until he was practically lying on the tabletop, gasping for air, eyes watering, while Eliza watched smugly.

“It wasn’t that funny,” she said drily despite her self-satisfaction, and took a bite of her burger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been packing up my apartment for the last week and every time i start to flag i yell at myself to "DO IT FOR ELIZA"
> 
> it's... working, weirdly


End file.
